


Five Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her

by sarcastic_fina



Series: Five Times (Chloe/Dean) [1]
Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-05
Updated: 2008-08-13
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this story was originally written in **2008** and my writing style and ability has changed and grown. This story is being moved over here from Livejournal because I'm closing my LJ account soon.

**1.**

She rarely went on hunts with them. Dean's answer to her lack of hunting in their odd little triangle of friendship was always the same: "You're a girl... Go do girl things... Like... I dunno, something _girly_!" Which really translated to: "It's dangerous. I won't risk you getting hurt!" Which was sweet in an overprotective and unneeded way. She was used to the hero trip, so she let it slide. It wasn't like she needed any more weird in her life as it was.

She wasn't _technically_ part of their team, really. After a run in a few years back where she inadvertently saved Sam and solved their case for them, they struck up a little deal where when they needed her help (ie. Hacking skills, weirdometer, supernatural knowledge, etc), they called her up and asked for her assistance. Well, more specifically, _Sam_ phoned her. Dean was never willing to put his pride on the line by admitting he hadn't yet figured something out. It was rare anyway; they were both far more skilled in the area of hunting than she could _ever_ be. But sometimes they thought too hard, looking for a much more complicated answer than what was there. She supposed it was part of living the life of a hunter; always expecting the worst.

Anyway, this was one of those very rare instances where Dean gave in and let her come along. And _this_ is what she got for pressuring him into letting her just this once. She helped them solve the case, mostly just by putting in her thoughts and them slowly connecting the puzzle pieces until the picture fit. So it was a group effort, but she still wanted to be there to see it all go down. She wasn't far and she managed to show up at their motel door in a couple hours. They were just getting ready to go out and all she had to do was grin before Dean was shaking his head. "No! No way! You're staying here, Blondie and that's _that_." Of course, as stubborn as he thought he was, he still caved in. Because whether or not he said she couldn't go, she had her own car and her own arsenal in her trunk. She'd be there one way or another and he figured rather than letting her sneak up on them he'd bring her along. At least that's what he said, but secretly she was pretty sure he just liked seeing her in action.

She hadn't been a damsel in distress for _years_. She was strong, fit, and maneuvered well with whatever weapon was passed her way. Her work with the League helped out, though she didn't work with them anymore. She passed the torch to Oracle and now Chloe happily worked various other projects including Isis and random jobs for Dean and Sam while still being one of the best solo investigative reporters in her field. She had a lot on her plate and some days the idea of just passing it on to someone else's shoulders seemed like a relief. The problem was that she'd been working most of her life and when vacations came around she was bored stiff with the lack of excitement and wonder.

So here she was, getting her monthly dose of weird and danger and she just so happened to get thrown through the window of the building their current demonic force was residing in. She was lucky, really, which she told Dean despite his muttering of "Son of a bitch! I told you! I knew she shouldn't-This is just what I thought would-NEVER again!" She missed the pike's sticking out of the ground by about a foot, just barely. Sure healing came in handy... When she was helping someone else. It didn't turn on and off like a faucet and she had to way to make sure that whatever scrape she got into today or tomorrow was sure to heal quick or easy. So landing away from the pike was just a small miracle. Not that Dean would listen.

He was pacing and ranting and waving his hands around in the air as if battling some invisible attack. Sam, fed up, had already left. He said something about needing to get some fresh air, sent her an apologetic half-shrug and then left the room, leaving her to sit on the bed, her leg elevated on a pillow. Wasn't it just her luck that in the end she still managed a sprained ankle? She watched Dean with both amusement and irritation. It was sweet of him, really, to worry so much. But, seriously? She was _fine_. And she'd be fine the next time she talked him into letting her battle whatever creature he was up against next week or month or whatever.

"Dean," she called, interrupting his rant.

"-you just couldn't leave well enough alone. Couldn't stay in your cushy apartment with the state of the art alarm system and all of my protection symbols! You're always getting into trouble and-"

"You put protection spells in my apartment?" She furrowed her brow, crossing her arms over her chest. "Where?" She shook her head. " _When?_ "

"-doesn't matter that you almost _always_ die for everybody else. Like ya got a goddamn death wish or something!" he half-shouted. " _Oh Dean, it's just one hell demon! Come on, I promise I won't get hurt! I'll be extra careful_ ," he mocked, sounding very much _un_ like her. "But noooo... You just _had_ to _tempt_ him. You couldn't let the _professionals_ deal with it because that would be too friggin' _smart_!"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Dean, you had it _so_ under control... You're forgetting the part where if I _hadn't_ distracted him, you and Sam wouldn't have had the opportunity to kill him."

"We woulda been fine!" he yelled. "Which is more than I can say for you if you'd been just a foot to the _right_!" His chest was heaving, his shoulders tensed and she finally looked at him; _really_ looked at him. He was... upset. Not just in that "I'm in a pissy mood - I need beer and hot women" way, but in that "I'm so scared, all I can do is yell" way that usually only came up when the matter concerned Sam.

She swallowed, eyes falling, feeling sorry for pushing his buttons. "I'm sorry," she murmured, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away like he was unaffected.

She smiled slightly. Same old Dean. "I just wanted to help." When he opened his mouth to rebut, she quickly interrupted, "And yes, I know, it was very thoughtless and stupid and careless and a _million_ other adjectives for my mistake. But..." She lifted a shoulder. "I'm okay, right?" She smiled up at him.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, his frown still firmly in place.

She held her arms out. "Look," she said, motioning to her torso. "No pike hole!"

He lifted a brow, snorting and then walked over to the bed, motioning his head down toward her elevated foot.

"What, _that_? Psh..." She waved her hand at it. "That's nothing... Couple days, some ice, I'll be back to kicking demon ass in no time."

He frowned.

"Too soon to ask what your next hunt is?" she asked, smiling lightly.

He sighed, sitting down on the bed next to her hurt foot, just staring at it for a moment and she knew he was probably beating himself up. Because that's what he did; when he couldn't save those he cared about, even if it was just a little sprain, he brooded over it for _ever_. The last time she got hurt, he didn't talk to her for three months. If she called, he handed the phone to Sam. If she showed up, he suddenly had to go out for something to eat or down to the bar. He absolutely refused to be around her, until she shouted him deaf with all the reasons he was being a pigheaded jerk and he finally admitted that he couldn't be there to save her ass all the time and he didn't want that day to come, the day he wasn't looking close enough and she made a fatal mistake. And despite how worried he looked, despite how much he probably wanted her to tell him that yeah, sure, he was right and she should step down and walk away - she didn't. She told him to suck it up and that if she wanted to be a part of this life, she would, whether he wanted her to or not. And because he was Dean, he pretended he didn't care, but he did start talking to her again.

But now they were back to that same argument, the one where things were said, but never the _right_ things. He never told her _why_ it mattered so much to him that she stay alive and unhurt. And okay, maybe she was being a little selfish because _most_ people want their friends or even just people in general to stay safe and alive and out of harms way. But she wanted to know why her possible (and likely inevitable) death was such a big deal to _him_. But she wasn't going to say that, just like he wasn't going to tell her why without some kind of push and she wasn't willing to do that. Because it was her... and her background said enough about men to tell her not to step out onto that thin trapeze line that was her heart. More than likely, especially with a guy like Dean, she was going to fall off that rope and there wouldn't be a net to catch her, so she and her previously mended (over and over again) heart would be broken and shattered and this is one fall she knew she just wouldn't get up from.

He reached out, his hand steady and if it were anybody else, she'd pull her leg away from his as quickly as she could, just to be sure they didn't accidentally poke it in the worst place possible. But she didn't so much as flinch as his fingers touched her swollen ankle, stroking it lightly, fingers running along the purple bruise that ringed her ankle. He just stared downward, lips pressed in a firm line, brows furrowed, eyes so intense it was as if he was trying to mentally fix her. Which nearly made her snort because really, this was Dean, and if it were a different situation, he'd tell her to stop being a baby and walk it off. Or well, he'd tell Sam that, anyway.

After she was hurt, he looked fierce, ready to go back in and kill the hell creature all over again. But instead he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to the Impala, all the while muttering under his breath, which she could feel skittering over the side of her neck as she held onto him, her head on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around him. He didn't talk to her or Sam the entire ride back, instead blasting Metallica out of the speakers and then she _really_ knew he was upset because Metallica was reserved for moments where he needed serious "calm down" time. He didn't say anything as he picked her up out of the backseat of the Impala, somehow gentle despite looking ready to scream his head off, and walked her into the motel room, putting her down on his bed and stuffing a pillow beneath her leg before he started pacing back and forth, hands on his sides, nose flaring, scowl in place and anger radiating off of him in waves. She didn't blame Sam for leaving. If her foot had been better, she would've left too.

But then... she might just miss this very rare tender-Dean moment and maybe it was worth the pacing and the yelling, the frowning and the scowling, the ranting and raving, and even the sprained ankle. Because his touch was unusually soft, despite the calluses on the pads of his fingers, which just served to make her tingle up her knees, between her thighs and right down into the pit of her stomach. His fingers drew random shapes along her ankle, so soft it felt like a barely-there caress, enough to leave her wanting more but not so much that she was sure _that_ talk was anywhere near in coming. Because as rare as these moments were, where he showed that tiny little bit of himself that had some sort of feelings for her other than that pesky reporter friend of his, they never ended how she wanted them to, much to her denial.

He leaned forward, the bed dipping slightly at his movement and her breath caught in her throat. This was new...

His lips pressed against the darkest area of the bruise, surprisingly soft and comfortingly warm. They stayed for a second longer than what would be acceptable given the situation. He leaned away and she felt the tenseness of the situation.

"All better?" she murmured.

He smirked back at her, but she saw something soft in his eyes.

"You know it, sweetheart," he said before lifting up from the bed. "I'm gonna go find Sammy, maybe pick up some grub on the way back. You want anything?"

"Coffee," she said rather absently.

He chuckled under his breath before grabbing his leather jacket and pulling it on. "Stay off your foot. I'll be back in awhile," he said before leaving the motel room.

As soon as the door closed, she wiggled her foot around. Good as new. She hadn't said anything but she felt the inner warmth at her ankle as he kissed her. She wasn't sure how he activated her powers, but the second those lips touched her skin, her ankle started to mend. Maybe it was the emotional connection - it seemed it always worked best in overly emotional situations. And yeah, she could admit for that moment that having Dean kiss her all better was pretty damn startling. Sure there was the odd peck on the cheek and a few times he even strayed to her forehead or temple, but it just seemed so much more intimate to have him do what he just had. With the caressing and that intense look in his eyes.

Her chest warmed as she touched the faded bruise around her ankle. Her lips quirked at the corners with a smile and she shook her head. There was no way that he would've done that for just any old girl. He could go on pretending that he didn't care. The "talk" could go unsaid; their feelings kept to themselves. Because deep down, she knew... She knew that he worried about her, that he tried to keep her from coming on hunts, that he went out of his way to argue with her in hopes that maybe this one time she really will stay home instead of driving out to see them on their hunt, all for one very good reason. He was totally in love with her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.

**2.**

There was an incessant ringing in the background that wouldn't quit. She blinked her eyes rapidly and rolled over onto her other side, pressing her face down into her pillow and sighing heavily. But it didn't stop and with each passing ring, she felt wakefulness prick at her senses. Finally, with a huff, she lifted up and reached for her phone, rolling over and blowing her hair out of her eyes with an annoyed sigh. "Hel- _lo_?" she made sure to say it in the most aggravated voice she could manage at... 12:02 am in the morning. Ugh! She'd been having a really, _really_ good dream and this was _not_ how it was supposed to end.

"Hey. You know, you might wanna try answering your phone the first three times a guy calls," replied a _very_ familiar voice. One she'd just had growling in her ear in her previously very enjoyable dream.

"Sorry, Dean, I was only trying to _sleep_ ," she snarked. "You know what that _is_ , don't you? It's what people do at twelve in the _morning_!"

He let out an insufferably low and sexy chuckle that made her toes curl beneath her blanket. She brushed that feeling off though because this was not a time to let his redeemable traits overpower her annoyance.

"Yeah, well... Not all of us work a nine to fiver, sweetheart."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, that excuse might work on someone who hasn't seen you sleep in ‘til three in the afternoon."

He snorted. "Whatever. What are you doing?"

She shook her head. "Currently? Laying in my bed, wishing I was sleeping."

She could practically _feel_ his smirk. "Yeah... What are you wearing?"

She laughed. "Dean!"

"That's right... _Yell_ it like you _mean_ it."

She lifted a hand to her face, feeling it heat up beneath her palm. She was so thankful he wasn't here to actually _see_ her blush. Hadn't he said something almost _exactly_ like that in her dream? Weird coincidence...

"You're completely insane, you know that?"

"We all have our days," he said easily. "Wanna know what I'm wearing?"

She chuckled. "No," she said simply. She was pretty sure she already knew.

"You're no fun when you're tired."

"Well maybe if you hadn't woken me up unexpectedly at midnight, I'd be more interesting." She yawned, running a hand threw her tangled hair. "I've had a looong day." She let her eyes close and slid further down into her bed, pulling the comforter up. "Between Isis and this piece I've been working on, I feel like I'm constantly on auto-pilot..." She laughed rather sadly. "I don't even know what day it is today... I just knew I had to be at work... Because I'm _always_ at work."

"You're a real downer, sometimes," he said honestly. "And it's Wednesday."

"Thank you," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"The twelfth," he added.

"Helpful."

"Of November."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get-" Her brows furrowed. "Wait a sec..." She sat up in her bed, head tipped to the side. "Oh my god... is it my _birthday_?"

"Ding, ding, ding," he replied nonchalantly.

Her lips curved in a smile. "That's why you called, isn't it?" She shook her head. "Dean... Did you wait until midnight so it would officially be my birthday?"

He cleared his throat. "No... That's just a very unusual coincidence," he assured. "I remembered when you brought up your workaholic ways and lack of memory."

"Hey! Some of us have like three jobs here, buddy. It's not all pie in diners and sleeping in ‘til three!"

She knew he was rolling his eyes. " _One_ time."

"Yeah," she snorted. "Right."

"All right, so I sleep in most of the time. I'm up all night on a regular basis," he huffed. "And anyway, that's got nothing to do with this. You're officially like, what, thirteen now?"

She pursed her lips. He knew how old she was and from the way he often checked her out, there was no way he thought of her as some thirteen year old girl. "Twenty-four, thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. He cleared his throat again and she could just imagine him scratching the back of his neck in discomfort. "So happy birthday."

She grinned. "You _did_ call just to say that, didn't you?"

He sighed. "You don't think I have better things to do then wait around until midnight just to call you and say happy birthday?"

"Given the current circumstances... apparently not." She chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, well... I was bored and there was nothing but infomercials on... Sammy's snoring and I couldn't sleep," he listed. "So it had nothing to do with your birthday."

"All right, fine, you convinced me." Except he didn't. She glanced at the clock once more but she wasn't quite as sleepy as she'd been. "So... What are you wearing?" she teased.

He laughed. "Not much."

She shivered a little... His voice was just that one notch lower than usual and it was utterly sexy. "Yeah, well, you'll be disappointed to know I'm wearing a lot. Like full on flannel pants and long sleeved shirt," she said, nodding. She even had socks on... They were striped and very colorful and just enough to keep her toes warm. Maybe she should turn up the heat...

"Damn and here I thought the night was going to be so much more racy than flannel."

She smiled, shaking her head in amusement. "Yeah, well... Unfortunately my lace teddy is in the cleaners."

She could hear him shift around and he didn't reply right away. "Oh yeah? What color is it?"

She smirked. "Black."

He blew out a heavy breath. "If only it'd been red..."

She chuckled. "Yeah, yeah... So? What'd you get me for my birthday?"

"Isn't this phone call enough?" he replied purposely arrogant.

"Right, well, while your voice is so very appealing and talking to you is a gift in itself," she assured sarcastically. "You couldn't get me a nifty gun or something?"

He snorted. "All out of nifty birthday guns, sweetheart. But maybe next year."

She sighed overdramatically. "Fine, but it better be a big one."

He made a strangled noise and her brow furrowed.

"You okay over there?" she asked.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Go, uh, go look in your closet. Top shelf, on the right."

She bit her lip, crawling out of bed and doing a little jig as the cold hair hit her abruptly. She blew out a breath and tip toed over to her bedroom closed. "Wait... Bedroom or hall closet?"

"Bedroom," he said simply.

Nodding, she stepped up and pulled the doors open, flicking the light on so she could see what she was doing. She wasn't nearly as tall as him so she had to stretch up and feel around blindly with her hand until she felt a box beneath her fingers and pulled it down. It wasn't wrapped and it didn't have any bows or anything on it, but it was wooden, like a jewelry box, and the top had an intricate design carved into it.

"Open it," he said quietly in her ear.

She didn't know how he knew, but she followed direction and lifted the top open, her eyes widening. She let out a tiny gasp, eyes widening. It was _beautiful_. Brown and orange beads made up the necklace, but at the very end was a diamond shaped glass pendant with whirls and swirls of pinks, ivory, green, and dark blue. It didn't look expensive or flashy, it was just... _her_.

She didn't know what to say. She drew it out of the box and walked to her dresser mirror to put it on. "Dean... It's beautiful."

"Yeah. Saw it some pawn shop..." He cleared his throat. "I carved a protection charm into the back, just to be sure. Now I don't always have to keep an eye on you."

She rolled her eyes, grinning as the necklace clasped at the nape of her neck and the pendant fell against her chest perfectly. She'd never take it off.

"Thank you," she said gently.

"Whatever, Blondie," he replied, playing the unconcerned part as usual. "Anyway, it's late. We're leaving town tomorrow; another day, another hunt."

She nodded. "Be careful."

He chuckled lowly. "Careful's my middle name."

She lifted a brow. "Who would've thought will all those scars and death certificates floating around," she muttered.

"Hey, I'm still here aren't I?" he snarked.

She sighed, nodding. "Yeah, well... Try to stick around tomorrow, too, huh?" she asked, masking the twinge of fear in her voice. She was used to these hunts; didn't stop her gut from hollowing out until she got the call letting her know they were fine. She waited on pins and needles every time and he rarely disappointed her.

"You know I will," he replied strongly. "Now get to bed, it's like midnight. Normal people are sleeping right now."

She snorted. "Imagine that..."

He let out a breathy chuckle. "Night, Chlo."

She flicked the light off and crawled into her bed, her hand falling to her necklace. "Goodnight, Dean."

She grinned into the darkness, even as the dial tone filled her ear before she hit the end button. There were few moments in her life where she felt truly loved, cared for and wanted. But this was definitely one of those moments. She closed her eyes and fell asleep, her smile still in place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.

**3.**

Dean played with his tie for the umpteenth time and Chloe rolled her eyes, smiling to herself before reaching out and batting his hands away. He gave her a mopey frown but she simply readjusted his tie so it wasn't quite as tight. "There. You happy now, you big baby?"

"It was choking me," he muttered sourly. "Like a friggin' noose. Don't even know why I need one."

"Because this is formal and as hot as you _think_ you are sporting the open collar thing, you're not." She hooked her arm around his and took a deep breath. In a few minutes, she'd be walking into the privately held benefit, in front of hundreds of eyes, including those of her ex-fiancé. The one and only Jimmy Olsen was the photographer for the event, but he had brought along his date for the evening as well, current girlfriend Kara Kent who was one of many reasons she and Jimmy hadn't worked out. He wasted no time in asking the alien beauty out and while she was happy she no longer had to create intricate lies to make sure Jimmy didn't know the sensitive information she knew, it still hurt that he could move on so quickly.

So here she was, all dressed up and looking "damn hot," as her cousin Lois told her. If Dean's strangled nod was anything to go by then yeah, she was doing pretty good. She hadn't known he'd be driving cross country to be her date but apparently after admitting to Sam she was pretty nervous about the benefit and seeing Jimmy, he'd passed it onto Dean and he showed up with a half-frown and a "monkey suit" to back her up. She nearly cried but the second she sniffled, his eyes widened and he uncomfortably went to her bedroom to quickly change.

"You ready?" he asked her, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

She was shaking and she figured he must have felt it because otherwise she was sure she looked like the picture of calm. She'd learned quickly to hide her true feelings; they only got her into trouble. She nodded at him but all he did was lift a brow. "I'm just a little scared."

"Don't worry... Anything goes wrong, I have my gun."

She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Not everything can be solved with rocksalt."

He snorted. "You'd be surprised." He smirked at her. "Hurts like a bitch."

"You're going to _shoot_ him?" she asked, disbelieving. Her brows rose, a skeptical half-smile on her mouth.

"If you want me to," he said with a simple shrug.

She smiled, sighing lightly. "No... I think it'll be okay." She lifted her shoulders, tipped her chin and pasted on a confident expression. "Let's go..."

They entered the large ballroom where men and women had collected in expensive evening wear, dressed to the nines and showing off their wealth and current status in the world without any sign of humility. Buffets were set up on either side and she already knew that's where Dean's eyes had headed. Guy had an appetite the size of Bart's. Classical music played faintly in the background and while various couples were dancing, she was sure she wouldn't be one of them. Dean wasn't a dancer and this _definitely_ wasn't his kind of music.

A few eyes turned their way and she smiled, lifting a hand to those who waved. She wasn't quite ready to start up a conversation though and so they kept walking through the crowd. With Dean in lead, she was sure they were bound to end up at the buffet soon. Despite how stoic he looked, she could tell he was uncomfortable. She felt his bicep flex beneath her hand and he kept shifting his head, swallowing beneath the buttoned up collar of his crisp white dress shirt. She wondered where he got a tux on such short notice but she'd been so grateful, she hadn't thought to ask. He hated anything suit-related. He was more of a jeans and t-shirts guy, which he made look good every time. But it was nice to see him out of the leather jacket and into the black suit; even if she knew he was inwardly cursing himself for ever agreeing to wear it. He lifted a hand, tugged at his collar once more and frowned, rolling his shoulders beneath his coat.

"Stop squirming, you look good," she told him honestly.

He smirked at her, but it wasn't as confident as usual. "Course I do," he replied.

She smiled back, rolling her eyes playfully. "You know if you're nervous, you _can_ tell me."

"I'm not." He shook his head, lifting a shoulder. "I don't _get_ nervous."

She sighed. "Fine... But if it helps, I'm wearing a red teddy under this dress."

His head turned towards her so quickly, she was surprised he didn't get whiplash. His eyes were comically widened and his jaw had fallen open a notch. "You serious?"

She grinned. "It matched my dress," she said, glancing down at her outfit. The red silk gown whispered against her curves, hanging down to her toes in a flattering manner. She'd picked it up for a pretty penny, but she wanted to look and feel good if she was going to walk into the benefit solo.

He stared at her skeptically, lips pursed.

She scoffed at his lack of trust and slid her thin dress strap to the side only slightly, letting him see the racy apple red spaghetti strap of her negligee, the top of the lace bustier could be seen. She put it back in place quickly, hoping nobody else noticed the movement and was amused to see Dean staring at her with thinned eyes. "You didn't know I was coming," he said. "So why'd you wear that?"

"Confidence boost," she replied easily with a shrug. "And who said I'd have worn it even if I _did_ know you were coming?" She lifted a brow.

He smirked.

She rolled her eyes, sliding her arm back into his. "I just wanted to feel good about myself. I knew tonight was going to be awkward and probably more than a little ego crushing. But..." She sighed. "I figured I'd wear what makes me feel good and confident and sexy." She smiled.

"So lace teddies make you feel good, huh?" He leered playfully.

She patted his bicep. "Down boy." He was sufficiently distracted and no longer looking stiff and uncomfortable, simply walking with her once more through the crowd.

"Ya think they have anything actually edible?" he wondered, lifting his chin so he could see the far-off buffet.

"I don't think they have a platter of steaks, if that's what you mean."

He frowned. "So what? Caviar and escargot?"

She snorted. "It's a big benefit, but this isn't the Fortune 500 Club. It's probably a regular buffet; fruits, veggies, shrimp, crackers..." She lifted a shoulder. "I thought you had a pizza on the drive in?"

"Yeah, but that was like two hours ago," he replied, feet hurrying just a little more toward the table. "Besides, Sam ate like _half_ of it."

She lifted a brow. "Sam?" She shook her head. "And you _let_ him?"

"Hey, he's my brother. I gotta feed him _sometimes_." He grinned at her but at her skeptical lifted brow, he sighed. "Fine, he had one or two pieces. Still... I'm a grown man, I need food." He stopped in front of the mini-sandwich display. "Even if it is finger food."

She chuckled, shaking her head as he rubbed his hands together before grabbing up a couple sandwiches and popping them in his mouth, eyes already wandering around the table for another treat. She let him go for it; she wasn't easily embarrassed and she really didn't care if he stuffed himself to bursting. She barely wanted to be there, but the benefit was for a good cause and she wanted to support them. If she just so happened to get an interview or two from a few higher ups in the business world, then great, if not, then... well, at least she got to see Dean in a suit.

She took the offered champagne flute from a passing server and held it nimbly between her fingers, eyes scanning the room for any familiar faces. Lois _had_ said she might drop in, but she wasn't required by the Planet to do any digging. Plus, since Sam was currently camped out on Chloe's couch, she was sure Lois was going to hang around and grill him about the nature of her and Dean's relationship. Despite Lois' insistence that Chloe work less and never leave Metropolis, she was pro-Dean. "He makes you, I dunno, _glow,_ " she told her once, shrugging off the emotion of the situation. "You should glow more." And then she quickly changed the subject, but Chloe knew what she was saying. Do it; stop procrastinating and worrying about whether he may or may not break your heart. Put yourself out there and jump in head first, ‘cause even if you get kicked down, in the end, you experienced something incredible. And she knew that with Dean, it was bound to be just that. Not just the bedroom dalliances either.

He made her laugh and he kept her safe and he could be charming and tender when he wanted to. So maybe if she did give in, _one day_ , he'd be _that_ guy for her. The Clark Kent to her Lois Lane; which despite Lois' constant downplaying was a very real and very strong relationship. It had hurt once upon a time, but Chloe was quick and she knew real love when she saw it. So maybe she should look in a mirror one day, but for now she was going to play the obstinate card and keep her relationship with Dean purely platonic... with a little flirting and teasing here or there.

When Dean turned back around, one hand was full of sandwiches and his cheeks were full of just about everything he could reach. He grinned at her, showing off chewed up bread and shrimp. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him before turning back to look out at the crowd. Suddenly, a red strawberry popped up in front of her and she glanced down to see he was offering up the fruit. He lifted his brows at her, encouraging her to take it and with a small laugh, she plucked it from his fingers and brought it to her mouth, sinking her teeth in at the very end. The sweet and slightly bitter flavor filled her tongue and she let her eyes fall partly closed. She _loved_ strawberries. He looked proud, going back to chewing his sandwiches but standing smug next to her, winking as she looked over.

Far across the room, she thought she saw a camera flash and her stomach tightened. "We'll do a few laps around and then head out, okay?" she asked, glancing up at him.

He looked over at her with a half-frown. "Dude, I spent way too much poker winnings renting this monkey suit for that. We're gonna show you off as much as we can, make sure the jerk sees what he's missing and then when I'm sure my job as knight in shining whatever is done, we'll go." He smirked at her, giving a nod of finality.

She simply nodded, biting down on her lip and glancing around, hoping the flash was just in her head.

He offered his arm and she took it, probably holding on a little tighter than needed. Dean quickly finished off his food and stole her champagne, downing it before leaving the empty glass on the table while Chloe admired the work the group put into spiffing up the hall the benefit was being held in. Not too glamorous, but a big difference from its drab appearance the last time she'd set foot in the building. Her eyes took in each face they passed, mentally going through the information she knew about each of them. It seemed her inner investigative reporter never rested. When she noticed Lex, she was sure to direct her and Dean in the opposite direction. He just wasn't on the list of people she could handle tonight. She was surprised he'd even shown up; he was supposed to be in Hong Kong last she checked.

Speaking of billionaires, she grinned as Oliver Queen stepped into her view. She quickened her steps, but not enough to make it appear unusual and she and Dean came to a halt in front of her former leader. "Mr. Queen," she greeted with a slight nod and a warm smile.

"Ms. Sullivan," he replied, grinning back at her.

"I didn't know you'd returned from Star City."

He lifted a shoulder. "It's a good cause," he said easily.

She nodded agreeably before noticing Dean's cleared throat and turned toward him. "Oh!" She blushed slightly. "Sorry. Oliver, this is my good friend Dean." She glanced back at the frowning hunter and lifted a brow. "Dean, this is my former boss, Oliver Queen."

Oliver held out a friendly hand, which Dean shook firmly apparently trying to assert his alpha male status.

"Boss," Oliver said with a chuckle, looking over at her. "If I remember correctly, you were in charge of all of us. Nothing happened without Watchtower's approval." He said it low enough that nobody else would hear.

She lifted a shoulder. "If I left you boys to your own devices, chaos was sure to ensue."

"Right," he agreed. "It's a miracle we've survived this long."

"I trained Oracle well," she assured, grinning.

"That you did." He turned for a moment, welcoming a beautiful brunette as she slid up close to him. "Dinah, look who I found."

Chloe smiled at the familiar superhero. "Still rocking the brown wig, I see."

"I tried red but it was too attention grabbing," she replied easily. She smirked over at Dean. "And who's this mystery date? Not another meteor knock off, I hope."

Chloe chuckled, shaking her head. "No, but probably just as unusual."

Dean glared at her.

She patted his chest comfortingly. "Dean, Dinah - Dinah, Dean," she introduced. "I'm sure Oliver will give you the particulars later."

Dinah simply nodded, eyeing him up and down. "Nice work, Sullivan. He's certainly better than your last catch."

Dean grinned smugly.

"Yeah, well, he knows it too," she said, lifting a shoulder.

"Speaking of bow ties and cheating jerks, there's Olsen now." With a frown, Dinah nodded her head and Chloe looked back to see her ex-fiancé standing next to the statuesque blonde that was Kara. Bow tie and camera included, he looked just like she remembered, even though she hadn't seen him in a couple months.

"You dated _that_?" Dean's voice asked against her ear. She hadn't noticed he was so close and didn't have time to stop the shiver from escaping as his warm breath skittered over the shell of her ear.

She could've sworn she heard Dinah chuckle which only made her frown. "He had his redeemable traits," she replied.

"Yeah, I can see he's a real upstanding citizen," he snarked lowly.

"He is," she assured.

"That before of after he started dating peroxide Barbie?"

Chloe snorted. "Kara's nice." That still left a bad taste in her mouth. Cousin of Clark's or not, Chloe couldn't quite muster love for the woman.

"Yeah, she looks spectacular," he said sarcastically.

Okay, so she looked a little frigid at the moment. Maybe because she was surrounded by "inferior" humans. But then, Kara was probably the epitome of all things Dean loved physically. Downright gorgeous, blonde, blue-eyed... She was surprised he wasn't drooling. She looked up at him to find he wasn't really paying much attention to Kara, instead he looked like he was sizing up Jimmy. Which almost made her laugh, really, because she couldn't honestly imagine Jimmy standing a chance against Dean.

She didn't have to turn around to know Oliver and Dinah had left, probably off to make sure enough publicity was given. Oliver's face would bring that much more attention to the benefit at hand and they needed it. She felt Dean's fingers move against the small of her back, overtop the silk of her dress and realized just how close they were standing. She was nearly pressed up against his chest, his arm slung low around her waist, her hands placed over his ribs. She knew she should step away, give them a more respectable distance, but she sort of liked how easy and comfortable it was.

One of her fingers started fiddling with a button on his shirt, almost nervously. "He was a good boyfriend," she muttered almost defensively.

Dean snorted, his lips firming into a line.

"He was," she said, nodding slightly. "But we were both busy and my lies were piling up. You can't really build a life on secrets."

"So it was _your_ fault?"

"No... Yes... Wait, no, I..." She huffed, chin falling. "I don't know..."

He rubbed her back lightly but she refused to look at him, instead focusing on the button her fingers were lifting up and twisting around. "You kept secrets ‘cause you couldn't trust him... Is that your fault or his?"

She furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure."

"And this Kiera chick, when'd she come in?"

"Kara," she corrected absently. "He liked her awhile ago... The first time we dated." She lifted a shoulder. "Things changed and he didn't like her anymore and we got back together... He proposed, I stupidly said yes, and a few months later he liked Kara again." She sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "He says he wasn't with her while we were together, but I don't know if I believe him." She glanced over at her ex, who was whispering intimately in Kara's ear, a large grin plastered over his face. "Would you have said no to _that_?" she said rhetorically, staring at the blonde beauty with a sad frown.

"In a heartbeat," he replied, voice lower than usual.

She looked up, brows lifted in surprise. "Dean! She's... Gorgeous."

He glanced at Kara, tipped his head as if to take her all in and then looked back to Chloe. "Nothing special." He lifted a shoulder. "Look, this Jamie guy was a moron."

"Jimmy," she muttered in correction.

"Whatever." He stared down at her seriously and she found her body turned so all of her was facing him, her hips jutted out slightly, nearly touching his. His hands had fallen to her hips, thumbs stroking across her stomach lightly. "He made a huge, giant, dumbass mistake."

"What was that?" she murmured softly.

His mouth quirked on one side. "Giving up you."

She swallowed tightly as her throat went dry. Her eyes fell for a moment, unsure.

He squeezed her sides and her face lifted back up automatically.

"You think I'm pullin' your chain, Blondie?" He lifted a brow. "How often do I go out of my way to make other people feel better?"

She chuckled, smiling lightly.

"Come on," he said, turning so his arm was wrapped low around her waist. "Let's get out of here."

She nodded. She'd had enough already and she would happily return to her apartment to crawl into bed and get out of her slinky dress. Flannel pajamas, here she comes!

They were nearly to the stairs before they were stopped, a familiar voice calling out her name.

She turned her head, smiling despite the way her gut clenched tightly.

Jimmy waved his camera at her awkwardly. "Uh, would you and your friend pose? Need a few more shots for the paper."

"I really don't think so," she said. The last thing Dean needed was a picture of him in the paper, _alive_. "Maybe next time."

"Nah," Dean said, squeezing her hip. "Come on, sweetheart. It's one little picture."

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. Somehow he'd manage not to say ‘sweetheart' with any note of sarcasm.

He drew her closer, taking advantage of her shocked state and she found herself pressed up against his chest. She looked over her shoulder at Jimmy, her hair falling across her cheek. Dean's hand lifted, brushed it from her face and behind her ear before it ran down her arm, cupping her elbow as her hand sat high against his chest. She bit her lower lip unconsciously, her body leaning into him just a little more.

Jimmy simply stared at them a moment, nearly gaping at the display of tenderness and then fumbled with his camera before muttering a not-so bright, "Say cheese."

Dean simply snorted and Chloe's smile brightened. She heard the click but saw no flash and then Jimmy lowered the camera and nodded. "Thanks... It'll, uh, really fit nicely with the others."

"Good," she said, licking her lips with discomfort. "Well, it was nice seeing you."

"Yeah, uh, you too."

Kara appeared next to him, her coat pulled on. "I thought we were leaving," she said, glancing at Chloe with a hesitant smile.

"We are," Jimmy assured, grinning at her. "I just had to get one last picture of Chloe and her friend."

Kara's brows furrowed. "You didn't take the lens cap off," she said, motioning to the camera at his chest.

Before Chloe could laugh, she realized Dean was drawing her away and the two of them were half-way up the stairs before Jimmy could even think to call them back. She shook her head, looking at Dean with a half-grin. "That's why you said yes, wasn't it? Because you knew there'd be no actual proof."

He looked over to her with a smirk. "Bet you anything, he's kicking himself right now. And it's not because he didn't get the picture."

Her lips curved.

They picked up his car from valet, which he'd ardently challenged in the first place. "No way I'm handing my baby over to some pimple faced dork who doesn't know the first thing about handling her!" But in the end, the argument was pointless because she won... even if he did watch from the top of the stairs the whole time as the guy parked the Impala. By the time they got back to her apartment, she had mixed feelings about the night. She wanted to be happy that in the end, she didn't look ridiculous in front of Jimmy. Actually, he was the one who ended up looking rather foolish while she just looked elegantly at ease. She didn't stay long, but it wasn't a total bust. Still, she was glad to be gone. The anxiousness had faded and her stomach wasn't tied up in knots anymore.

She had to hold her dress up as they walked into her apartment building, careful not to let it drag on the dirty pavement. They road the elevator up to the fourth floor and passed by one of her neighbors on his way to take out the garbage as they walked down the hall to her door. When they got inside, Sam was passed out on the couch, remote in hand and a blanket thrown across him, likely via Lois who must've gone home seeing as she was nowhere to be found. Chloe kicked off her heels at the door and started for her bedroom, already reaching for the zipper on her dress. Dean made a few weird noises from behind her and she glanced back at him to see he was looking from her half-revealed back to the kitchen, making weird motions. "You know where the fridge is," she told him before walking into her room and closing the door behind her. She chose to ignore the fact that he likely got a little peek at the lingerie beneath her dress and instead smiled to herself as she undressed and pulled on some comfortable pajamas.

A few minutes later she heard a knock at her bedroom door and opened it to find Dean standing in front of her, a pint of Ben and Jerry's in one hand and a couple spoons in the other. He lifted a brow, mouth quirking with a half-smile. She grinned, backing up from the door to let him in. He'd shed the jacket and tie and unbuttoned the top few slots of his shirt. Almost immediately, he headed for her bed and she chose to shake every single not-so-platonic thought from her head and closed the door before following him over. He crossed his legs at his ankles, his back against the headboard and the top already off the ice cream as he dug in. She sat down next to him, taking the extra spoon and scooped out a hefty bite.

Without a word, he grabbed the remote and turned on her TV, flicking through the channels before finally setting on an old version of Godzilla, where good visual effects were a distant dream. She chose not to complain, if only for the way his eyes lit up. After all, he dressed up in a monkey suit and drove across three states just to take her out tonight. He deserved a little thanks.

"Classic," he said, tipping the ice cream in her direction.

She pulled her blanket over her lap and took another scoop of ice cream, settling in against the pillows and forcing her eyes away from the nice figure he cut next to her and over to the giant lizard on her screen. It wasn't as bad as she thought it'd be and she rather enjoyed the bad effects, if only for the corniness factor. On a commercial, he sighed, sliding lower in the bed and glancing at her. "You have fun?"

She lifted a shoulder. "It was better than I expected."

He nodded before suddenly pulling a mini-sandwich seemingly out of nowhere and smirked at her. "Hey, if it's free, I'm not against bringing a few home."

She snorted, shaking her head in amusement. "Thanks for being my date tonight, Dean," she said sincerely.

He shrugged. "Whatever. Free food, hot date, didn't take much prodding." He averted his eyes back to the screen, trying to write off the moment and she simply put her head on his shoulder, digging her spoon into the chocolate ice cream once more.

"Just say you're welcome," she told him.

He sighed, turning his head slightly and looking down into her eyes from where she still let her head rest against him. "Yeah, yeah. Now shut up, Godzilla's on."

She grinned, nodding slightly and turning her attention back to the movie at hand. Every time he laughed, she could hear it rumble up inside him, making her toes curl beneath the blanket. So the night ended on a much higher note. Her eyes drooped as the noise of the movie filled her ears, Dean's random input added in and she curled up against the warmth of his body, thankful that he could offer up something she knew he was more than reluctant to do. As she faded off, she barely felt the soft kiss he pressed against her hair, but she heard his deep voice as he whispered, "You're welcome, Chlo... Anytime."

She might just take him up on that in future.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.

**4.**

She was angry. No, _furious_. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. The yell was built up in her throat, burning and aching and begging for release. She grit her teeth, refused to let it out, just kept hyperventilating as she paced back and forth, her hands clenching tightly at her sides. Dean was leaning against the Impala, arms crossed over his chest, brows furrowed and lips in a firm line. He wasn't saying anything; just let her pace, red-faced and ready to break. Her Yaris sat unused on the side of the road, her driver door still open.

Everything had been fine. That morning, she'd woken up to the beautiful scent of fresh coffee, she had the morning off from anything work related and she planned on calling her favorite Winchester brothers to get an update on their last hunt. But as she sat down at her kitchen table to read the paper she'd received from the downstairs foyer, she nearly choked on air. If the article had been about nearly anything else, she would've been jumping for joy and swelling with pride. Lois Lane finally got her byline, but it just so happened to be the byline Chloe had been sitting on for years; the secret she kept, the friendship she held so close to her heart. Lois Lane got a face-to-face interview with Superman... Chloe wanted to beat them to death with her good intentions!

It wasn't so much that Lois had written it... more that Clark had _agreed_ to it. After everything, after all the loyalty Chloe had given, she was still just second best. Clark went to his girlfriend, let her get the scoops over and over again, and now _this_. It was a Pulitzer Prize winning piece, she just knew it, and that made it all the worse. She'd let go of the fact that Lois won her first love. She was over Clark in the romantic sense, even if it did hurt that he chose her cousin, of all people! And she'd accepted that Lois was now a well-known reporter in the place Chloe had dreamt of since she was just a little girl. It wasn't like her life was meaningless or ever boring. And Lois worked for her place in the Daily Planet, excusing that relationship early on with the former editor. But this... This was just that last little push to make it all so much worse.

"How could he?" She asked to no one in particular, although she did look at Dean, who simply stared back, face set in stone. "How could _she?_ " she wondered, letting out a choked laugh.

Almost as soon as she read it, she'd been ready to break down in hysterical laughter that would lead into tears and then a numb void. But instead, she got dressed quickly, in an outfit that likely didn't match at all, grabbed her cell phone and car keys and was out of Metropolis so fast, she was sure the cops couldn't catch her if they tried. Speeding was the last thing on her mind. And somewhere along breaking every speed limit there was and mentally tearing into her cousin and best friend, she dialed a number with her thumb, holding the phone up to her ear.

"Yeah?" came the sleepy reply of Dean Winchester.

"I have no idea where I'm going and I'm so unbelievably pissed right now, I'm seriously considering closing my eyes and just pushing the gas pedal!" she admitted, her voice harsh and croaky.

She could hear his clothes rustling in the background. "Where are you?"

"Forty minutes outside of Metropolis... But I've been speeding, so it could be further."

He snorted. "Slow down. I'll see you soon."

He hung up and so she followed suit and tossed her phone to the opposite side of the car. She didn't know what he meant, but she did release the accelerator from its place glued to the bottom of her car. Now she could actually _see_ the scenery, not that she was really looking. An hour later she was still just as angry and felt like she was getting nowhere, and then a sleek black Impala appeared in front of her and a slight burst of hope lit up inside of her. He pulled off to one side and she parked her car on the other, climbing out and inhaling a deep breath of the air around her, which did nothing to calm her nerves. He looked over at her, eyes scanning her head to toe before returning her intense gaze.

"What happened?" he asked, lifting a brow.

Instead of explaining, she grabbed the paper that she couldn't leave behind and thrust it into his hands before she got to where she was now; pacing in the middle of the highway.

"What do I have to _do_?" she asked, shaking her head. "I've bided my time, I've kept the secrets, I've stood by his dumb alien side for who-knows-how-longand what do I get?" She threw her hands up. "Ignored!" She swiped at her face, pushing her hair back. "Chloe Sullivan, second rate! Always the sidekick, the stand-by, the back up but never the main attraction!" Her chin wobbled, eyes building with tears. "And I've tried... I've really _tried_ to accept that. Because maybe it's all I'm meant to be in this life. But I can't! I can't be the leftovers or the- the- the lesser of the two, every _freaking_ time!"

"You're not," he said, calm and easy.

"To who? Because everybody else seems to think I'm just sitting at home, twiddling by thumbs, completely content with coming in second. That I don't have aspirations or dreams, or that mine don't matter as much as theirs! Well, it's not true. I matter!" She felt like she was stomping, throwing a tantrum like a little kid. "I _matter_!" she repeated, the tears fading and the anger replenishing inside of her. "Why can't they see that? Why can't they figure this out on their own? Why do I always have to _tell_ them what they're doing wrong? Why they're hurting me!"

He sighed. "I don't know." He laughed lightly, lifting his shoulders. "I'm not the guy you talk to about feelings, Chlo, you know that." He licked his lips, glancing down the road and then looked back at her. "I don't get people. They're all a little screwy for me to understand. I know family though... As twisted as mine was. And I know you'd do anything for yours. But sometimes you let yourself get trampled on doing that." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and let out a long breath. "So get it off your chest, tell them what they did wrong and then make your own decisions. Only person who can stop you from being the sidekick is you."

She stared at him, brows lifted with slight surprise. "You're right."

He smirked. "Yeah, occasionally I think with my upstairs brain."

She smiled, chuckling softly. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at him, just now realizing how tired he looked. He was probably sleeping when she called and hauled himself up out of bed to come get her before she did something stupid. She couldn't help but think he looked absolutely adorable with bed-head. She walked closer to him, smiling slightly as he looked at her warily.

"This isn't a chick flick moment," he told her warningly.

She grinned, stepping nearer.

He lifted a hand. "Don't make this sappy!"

With a slight laugh, she jumped up and hugged him, arms wrapping tight around his neck and face burying against his shoulder. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing lightly. He smelled good but she told herself not to think about it too much, even if she did inhale deeply as she drew away. She felt the faint whiskers of his jaw brush against her cheek and shivered slightly before landing back on her feet. "Thanks for coming out here."

He shrugged. "I wasn't far."

She frowned. "What were you doing so close, anyway? Thought you guys were still a few states over?"

"We were..." He licked his lips, eyes turned off. "We got done early, thought we'd come see what you were up to... There's a job nearby here anyway."

She smiled, nodding.

"So you're okay?"

"Still pretty angry, but I won't be suicidal behind the wheel anymore," she admitted, hands falling to her hips. "I probably overreacted."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Or it's just taken this long for to realize you've been under-reacting."

She lifted a brow. "Have you been reading psychology books while Sam's not looking?"

He rolled his eyes. "Hey, I've been around long enough to know you run yourself ragged for a bunch of jerks who don't seem to care."

"They care..." She frowned. " _I_ care."

He nodded. "So you heading back to town or what?"

She sighed, scuffing the pavement with her foot. "I don't know... I don't really want to see them right now..." She could imagine Lois would be showing up on her doorstep excitedly, ready to celebrate her big byline. And while Chloe was happy for her -somewhere deep, _deep_ inside of her- right now, she just couldn't play the proud cousin when all of her was seething over the principle of the matter.

He smirked slowly. "You wanna come on our hunt?" he offered.

Her brows lifted high on her forehead. "You _never_ invite me!"

He shrugged. "So you can play researcher. You're not getting in the field," he said firmly. "But you can come along, get your mind off all this family crap."

With a smile, she nodded. "Yeah, I think I could go for that."

"Good." He cleared his throat before suddenly tossing something at her.

She caught the glint of silver as it flew through the air and her eyes widened comically. "You're letting me _drive_?" she asked, shocked.

He licked his lips. "Good stress reliever. If you're all pumped up and angry, Sam's gonna get all wimpy and girly." He pet the roof of his girl. "My baby'll make sure you're anything but angry by the time you pull into the motel."

She lifted a skeptical brow. "You think driving's gonna calm me down? Because I drove out here and I was only _more_ angry."

"Yeah, but you were driving _that_ ," he said, motioning toward her little grey Yaris. He never hid his dislike for her car, which is probably why he wasn't too happy he'd be driving it back, seeing as there was no way she was going to leave her car just sitting on the side of the road. "So," he said abruptly, clapping his hands together. "Get in before I change my mind," he said, motioning to the Impala with his head.

She stepped closer almost hesitantly, certain he was going to tear the keys from her hand, give a deep laugh and shake his head, saying, "You _actually_ thought I'd let you take my baby for a drive?" But he opened the door for her, nudged her hip with his hand to get her to sit down and the knelt beside her. She had to move the seat up so she could reach the pedals and hid her smile as he grimaced. She put the key in the ignition and turned it, feeling a warm comfort fill her as the car came to a growling start. Reaching across her, leaning in close and filling her nose with the strong scent that was all him, Dean grabbed up a tape and popped it into the stereo, turning up the volume before he climbed out of the car and closed the door, leaning his arms on the open window.

"First motel as you drive in. It's got a diner, we can stop in and get something to eat," he told her.

She looked up at him grinning. "You're sure you're okay with this?"

He glanced at her and then the car before sighing. "I trust you."

She smiled gently.

"Quit with the doe eyes, you're already inside my girl," he grumbled.

She laughed. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." He clapped the car window and then stood up. "I'll be following behind you." He glanced at her Yaris with a scowl. "Drive fast. Sooner we get there, sooner I can get out of the tin can."

She grinned, pulling her seatbelt on and winking. "I'll give her the ride of her life," she promised.

His eyes darkened with something that made her stomach squirm. He grinned. "If anyone's gettin' the ride of her life, it's you."

Her mouth went dry and she couldn't muster a response to that.

With a smirk, he turned and walked over to her car, climbing in and readjusting the seat to fit him. He just didn't fit in the modern day Yaris - he was all classic rock and old muscle cars.

She pulled off the side of the road and turned the Impala around, winking at Dean as she passed him by before she pressed down on the accelerator and leaned back into the comfort of the leather seat. The tires hugged the pavement; his car rode beautifully. She felt the wind in her hair and against her face as it blew through the open windows freely. Her eyes brightened, her mouth pulling up in a grin. It was like freedom all packed in one incredible drive. She reached over and turned up Metallica a little louder. Her anger was pushed to the back of her mind as she let herself go, let herself melt into the car. Felt the thrum of its movements through her body, heard the hum of its engine right down into her bones, and loosened her grip on the steering wheel, singing loudly with the rock music. This was the best medicine there was!

In the rearview mirror, she could see Dean in her car, shifting around in the seat, probably trying to get comfortable. Letting her drive was likely a hard decision for him to make; his car was his most treasured possession and handing the keys off to her was like giving her his livelihood. Gratitude welled up inside of her; she felt more appreciated in that moment then she had in her entire life. And she knew he knew that, which was probably what made it all that much more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.

**5.**   


Her back hit the wall - _hard_ \- but she was too involved with the hot mouth currently slanting across hers to care about knocking the cheap pictures from their nails. Maybe later, she could blame it on adrenaline, but for right now she was just drowning in his touch. For too long she'd wanted this and now that she had it, her common sense was completely turned off. He just felt _so_ good, tasted _so_ delicious...

She didn't even wonder where Sam was; where he'd disappeared off to after the hunt that obviously turned out well. Celebrating a good hunt had all new meaning in that moment. Usually they hit a bar, she got a little tipsy while dancing to the oldies blaring from the juke box and Dean scammed a few locals for pool while Sam enjoyed a beer and let go of his "emo funk" as Dean called it to enjoy the night. But now Dean was running his hands down her sides, his thumbs flicking along the curves of her breasts and she whimpered against his mouth, her jaw going slack for a second and his tongue taking charge as it tangled with hers.

He gripped her hips tightly and she jerked forward instinctively, her pelvis pressing against his. The groan he gave was long and deep, making her stomach flip and tighten in anticipation. He pressed against her harder, his entire body seeming to swamp her petite form. She could feel the rock hard evidence of his approval snug against the juncture of her thighs and her legs tightened around his waist.

His mouth detached from hers and she inhaled deeply, her head falling back, banging against the wall painlessly. She ran her hand down the back of his hair, feeling it brush against her palm as she ran it back up before tightening her fingers in the short brown strands. His lips found her neck, suckled it hotly as his teeth and tongue marked her. Her eyes fluttered to half mass, sightlessly staring at the faded whitish-grey of the motel ceiling.

She wasn't sure what brought them here. One minute they were killing some beast-like demon and the next Dean had her hauled up in his arms, his mouth working magic on her lips. Given just how hazy her mind was, she almost thought whatever demon they'd been fighting was more of a djinn and simply granted one of more nc-17 rated dreams involving a certain stubborn and sarcastic Winchester. But she was a little too caught up to really care if it was real or not; because damn did it ever _feel_ real and she couldn't muster anything in her to deny him.

His rough hands slid up her shirt, running over her hips and along her ribs, finger flicking out and making her squirm at the slightly ticklish sensation. She smiled, letting out a breathless chuckle as he did it again, but any laughter was completely forgotten when his hands slid beneath the lace of her bra to cup her breasts. A drawn out moan escaped her, her body arching up, pressing even closer to him. His thumbs flicked against her nipples, massaging them slowly, calloused pads only making the feeling all the more intense. She rocked her hips against him, chewing her lip almost painfully. She could barely remember to breathe, so caught up in the way he was making her body quiver and twitch against him.

Her neck missed the heat of his mouth as his head ducked, lips finding her ribs, kissing along the sensitive flesh, making her fingers tighten in his hair. Her hands fall lower, nails scraping down the back of his neck before she gripped his shoulders. She nearly tore his shirt as his lips clasped around her breast, suckling it into the heat of his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing her into whimpering his name. He was mumbling something but she could barely make out her own incoherent thoughts and just enjoyed the flow of ecstasy as it streamed through her body.

And then his mouth parted from her chest and he panted harshly. "We should stop," he said, swallowing tightly and licking his lips.

 _That_ got her full attention. "What? _Why?_ No!" She said, shaking her head.

He lifted a shoulder, shaking his head slightly and then he was kissing her other breast, small little brushes of his lips all around her nipple, his breath skittering over her skin. His hands slid down her back, following the curve of her spine until they found her hips and then he was undoing her jeans and running his fingers along the top of her panties, skimming just beneath the band to caress her skin.

He stopped again, pressing his forehead against the valley of her breasts. He groaned in frustration. "No. We _really_ need to stop," he said, shaking his head back and forth, his hair brushing against her with the movement.

She turned her head up and glared at the ceiling. It wasn't a djinn, it was _trickster_! It had to be, because this was cruel and unusual behavior for Dean!

With an inward-groan, she couldn't even _imagine_ what would cause him - Dean _freakin_ ' Winchester - to stop in the middle of a heated make out session. So instead of trying anything logical, like _asking_ him what the deal was, she rocked her hips, slow but purposeful, rubbing the hardness that despite his protests was still _very_ happy about what had happened. He moaned, the vibration warming her chest and then his lips were moving again, his tongue escaping to trail over her breast, feasting on her flesh, teeth nipping, lips smoothing. And he rocked back, pressing the large bulge up against her, making her thighs clench and her stomach squirm. She wanted her jeans _off_ , she wanted her panties torn and thrown away entirely, she wanted him _inside_ of her - _yesterday_!

His hands ran down her putt, cupped the cheeks, squeezing them in his large palms, pulling her so close, she felt he practically _was_ inside of her already. And then his hands slid lower, fingers coming up from beneath her thighs, running along the seam of her jeans, teasing her through the denim where she could already feel her lacy panties becoming damp.

"Ohhhh..." She moaned, panting for air as it all seemed to escape her as she bit her lower lip and let her eyes fall closed.

He swirled his tongue around her nipple and then he was blowing on it, cool air skittering over her breast, making it flash with attention. She could feel her breast tighten, a tingling sensation rushing down her spine. And then the heat of his mouth was back, suckling her breast with vigor. His fingers flicked the zipper of her jeans down and somehow he fit his hand through the space to cup her warmly. She whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she felt the heat of his palm cover her slit entirely, pressing her already soaked panties up against her, the lace grazing her enticingly. Her legs twitched at his side, her hips rotating - wanting more. Her heels dug into his back, drawing him closer.

She ran her hands down his neck, nails grazing the tanned expanse before they splayed out over his shoulders, squeezing them as they tensed. She jerked as she felt his calloused finger running along the side of her panties, up and down the crevice where her thigh met her heat, teasing her. She dugs her fingers into him, flexing them briefly before pressing her nails desperately into his shoulder blades. She wanted to touch more of him, to feel his bare skin against hers. She bunched his shirt up beneath her fingers, tore it upward quickly before pulling it over his head until it was hanging at his forearms, between them. One arm separated to let it loose but he refused to pull his hand out from deep in her pants and so it hung there, over her denim clad thigh. She could care less though, now she had all of that hard, tanned skin of his to touch as she pleased and she did. The necklace he never took off hung between his pecs and she found her hand tracing it, around his neck and down his chest, before her fingers were branching out, teasing his skin with small circles that grew bigger and bigger, the end of her finger exploring his torso entirely. She watched as his chest flexed, tightened, his breathing hitched, drawing her eyes down to his protective tattoo. She leaned forward, pressed a kiss against it before falling lower, flicking her tongue over his nipple, her teeth briefly tightening around it before she arched her back as his fingers finally slid beneath her panties and touched her full on.

She could barely breathe. How long had they been playing this game? She wondered. It seemed like her entire life, she'd been waiting for this moment. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? She couldn't have spent her life waiting for him - for Dean Winchester, ladies man and demon hunter. It was impossible! She fell for good-to-the-bone Clark Kent - the humble farmboy from Smallville, Kansas. He was nothing like Dean - Dean who was gruff and sarcastic, confident and arrogant, reeking of sexiness where Clark was inexperienced and sweet, nice and honorable, a one-woman-only kinda guy. He'd waited for Lana Lang for _years_ , where Dean could only put up with women for one night only!

And he loved her... She _knew_ that. It wasn't hard to figure out. Those rare occurrences where he let himself just be with her, even if he used all of his fake indifference to pretend like it was never anything big, she _knew_ what he really meant by it all. The tenderness, the over-protective routine, remembering milestones in _her_ life when he could barely remember his own, taking her out on a date and making sure she looked good in front of a guy he'd labeled unworthy in the first place, letting her drive the Impala! It was all so obvious! Sure she'd doubted it. A guy like him going for a girl like _her_... But he did and she wasn't sure when it started, but she knew that even if he never said it, he _felt_ it.

He was stroking her firmly, his calloused fingers running up and down her folds, purposely avoiding entering her no matter how many times she jerked her hips in need. His mouth was all over her breasts, painting them with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, marking her. Her hands were running all around his torso, gripping him in tandem with the flick of his forefinger along her clit, reaching for his jeans, popping the button, lowering the zipper, sneaking her hand inside to cup him. The deep groan he gave reverberated through her chest, made her stomach squirm, her heat quiver. He was hard and ready and he felt so good even through the barrier of his boxer-briefs.

God, why did they wait this long? She wondered.

"Wait, wait, wait," he muttered, his mouth detaching from her and his head shaking again. His fingers stopped and his hips slid away from her hand slightly. "No, we gotta stop... We gotta..." He panted, swallowing tightly, making a mix between a growl and a curse. His hand slid out of her jeans and she whimpered at the movement, both in pleasure and irritation. He let her down slowly, carefully and then backed up, his expression pained. His shirt fell from his wrist to the floor and he backed up further, brow furrowed and mouth set in a grimace.

Some part of her couldn't help but think he looked utterly sexy in that moment. His hair in disarray, his jeans hanging loosely from his hips, undone, his boots still on and his chest littered with marks her mouth left behind, even his shoulders were scored from her fingernails.

He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "Ugh," he groaned. "My stupid upstairs brain isn't working!"

She couldn't help it; she snorted. "Good thing I don't _want_ your upstairs brain right now."

"Hey!" He lifted a hand as if to chastise her. "Don't say stuff ike that - it's not helping!"

With a slight smirk, she walked closer, pulling her shirt and bra the rest of the way off and tossing them away, now she was just as bare as he was.

His eyes fell from hers, stared wantingly at her body. He licked his lips before blinking rapidly and shaking his head. "Nonononono! _You_ stay over _there_!" He pointed toward the wall. "At least until the fog clears, all right? Good."

She rolled her eyes but stopped approaching him. "Care to tell me what's got you suddenly pushing the off button?"

"We can't do this," he exclaimed, his eyes widening with emphasis.

"You weren't complaining five minutes ago," she reminded.

"There's nothing to _complain_ about," he replied, frowning. "But we just... can't."

She lifted a brow, gaze falling to the bulge still sitting obviously beneath his jeans.

"Hey! That's _not_ the problem!" He crossed his arms over his chest, looking peeved that she'd even _suggest_ he had troubles in that area.

She rolled her eyes. "I have first hand knowledge that it's not," she reminded easily. "But I'm still completely confused about why it isn't happening."

He cleared his throat, glancing away. "Always so goddamn curious," he muttered under his breath. "Just trust me, we shouldn't."

She put her hands on her hips, although she was pretty sure she didn't look quite as imposing given that she was topless. "Not good enough." She sighed. "You have thirty seconds to explain or this is the one and only time this ever gets close to happening. There's no second chances here." She wondered if he knew she was bluffing. She had a good poker face though and instead turned her gaze toward the cheap clock on the wall.

He made a huffing noise, his teeth clenching and his eyes moving from the clock back to her.

She almost felt bad, because he looked rather pained with the ultimatum.

"Fifteen seconds," she told him, bending forward to grab up her shirt. Dear god, she thought, answer the question and take your pants off!

He was muttering under his breath, licking his lips, shuffling his feet, and she knew that it had to be hard for him, because he just didn't do sappy confessions.

"Five seconds," she said with a sigh.

"Okay, okay, okay." He looked around the room, anywhere but at her, his hands falling to his hips. "Ilikeyou," he rushed out.

"What?" Her brow crinkled.

"I _like_ you," he nearly shouted, glaring at her.

She managed to keep her laugh back. "I think I proved just how much I liked you when we were up against the wall," she half-teased.

"No, I mean, I don't just... _like_ you like you." He shrugged with a half-chuckle. "I mean I do _like_ you..." He smirked, eyes raking over her half-naked figure. "But I also like you."

She rolled her eyes. She was going to get him a thesaurus for his birthday, she decided. "A little clearer?"

He let out a heavy sigh, lowered his head with irritation and frowned. "Women are so friggin' difficult," he mumbled. When he looked back up at her, he was almost frowning. "I like you enough to want try this a little... differently."

Her brows rose and her mouth fell open. "You... You want to _wait_?"

"I dunno... How long is the wait?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's like three dates or something like that, right?"

She bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh. He really did look out of his element here. "More of just a... when the time is right thing... Generally, that's for people who are dating and don't really, uh, know each other..." Why did she feel like she was giving the birds and the bees explanation? "And since we already know each other, I'm not really... sure about how _long_..." She lifted a shoulder, smiling slightly as it brought his eyes right back down to her bare chest.

"Right so... It could be awhile or... not so long..." He scratched the back of his head, trying to force his eyes upward.

"Dean," she said, rather amused. "I know what you're trying to do and it's sweet, really. The whole wanting to try a real relationship first before jumping into bed, it's..." Another way for him to show just how much he really cared, but she wasn't going to say that because then he'd get even _more_ awkward. "But honestly, we know each other. Really, _really_ well and... Do you really want to wait?"

"No," he admitted. "But... Damn it!" He cleared his throat. "I don't want it to just... happen and then..." He closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead for a moment. "I kinda love you."

Okay, so she wasn't actually expecting him to say it just yet. Her eyes widened as she stared at him in shock.

He opened his eyes slowly, staring at her both worried and expectantly.

"I, uh, I, um..." She swallowed tightly.

"Yeah." He laughed uncomfortably. "Look uh, I think I'm gonna go... to the bar... or something." He reached down and grabbed his shirt before clearing his throat and moving to walk past her.

Sense kicked in just as he was about to pass and her arm reached out, hand gripping his bicep and stopping him in his place. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was strong enough to shrug her off and keep going, but he stilled at her touch. He wouldn't look at her, eyes set darkly on the door, probably waiting for some pitiful pick me up.

"I'm sorry, I just... You caught me by surprise." She licked her lips, tugging on his arm to get him to turn toward her. He did so, purposely looking put out by the movement. He was still looking over her head though and she knew that declarations like the one he just made didn't come so easy to him so her reaction must've really hurt. He had his arms crossed over his chest so she rested her hands on his forearms, her fingers stroking back and forth. "I know how you feel; I have for a long time, I just..."

"Hey, you don't have to make excuses, right? Nobody said you had to feel the same."

She sighed. "I do."

His brow furrowed and his eyes fell down to her. "You do what?"

She smiled slightly. "I do feel the same."

"You...?" He shook his head back and forth questioningly.

She grinned them, chuckling under her breath. "I love you."

"Oh... Uh... I..." He nodded, apparently at a loss for words.

"Just kiss me," she told him, hand reaching up to wrap around his neck before drawing him down until their lips meet together without the stress of secret love or fear that it was just a one-night thing between friends. He kissed her more gently now, his hands sliding around her waist, fingers stroking along the line of her spine. He left her breathless, her body thrumming, her heart overpowering sound. His mouth parted from hers and travelled down her neck, his teeth grazing her flesh and making her head fall back, her body arch until most of her is pressed flat against him. He felt warm against the bareness of her flesh, his chest rubbing against hers, arousing her nipples once more.

His hands fell lower, hooked around her jeans and pushed them down, fingers skittering over the exposed skin of her butt. She shuffled until her pants were her ankles and then kicked them away. While he's occupied with her shoulders, her hands explore his back, the contours and muscles that flex with each touch until they've fallen low enough to push his jeans down. And then he's scooping her up into his arms, hands on the back of her thighs, so close to her damp center she nearly came on spot. His mouth was around her breast again, this time with no possibility of drawing away and calling it quits. He stumbled back toward the bed, hooked an arm around her waist to keep her steady and then laid her back across the blanket. He covered her, his body looking so large now, swamping her own. She inhaled his scent as his head ducked once more, mouth running down the center of her torso from collar to abdomen.

But she didn't want him to have all the fun; she's always been a take charge type and this was no different. So when he came back up to kiss her, she easily turned them over until she was on top. And she knew he could flip them back over without exerting himself; he was stronger and more agile than she was, even after years of being Watchtower and the sidekick to Superman himself. But he didn't, instead he smirked up at her, his eyes darker than usual. She took his hands, pinned them above his head and ducked low so her mouth was close enough to kiss him but she didn't. Her hair brushed against his cheeks and she bit his chin briefly before she buried her face in his neck, attached her mouth to his Adam's apple and sucked and nipped all around it. She continued down his chest, the farther she went her hands slid away from his and down his arms, along his biceps, across his shoulders until they were sitting on his chest, holding him down and then her tongue was running along the top of his boxer-briefs teasingly. She used her teeth to drag them down and she can tell he was already anticipating her as his stomach flexed and his breathing deepened.

He lifted his hips and a guttural moan escaped him as her tongue ran over his length, slow and firm. Her nails dug into his chest as she kissed up and down and all around, purposely drawing it all out. His hand reached for her, buried in her hair and she finally wrapped him with her lips, enveloping him as deep as he'd go. She didn't move at first, just let him sit there, surrounded by the heat of her cheeks and her tongue.

"Oh god," he moaned.

And then she was moving, up and down and swirling every which way, hollowing out her cheeks and letting her tongue zig-zag, making patterns and writing unseen words. Her hands slid down his chest and over his tense stomach until they were at his hips, running up and down the V that made up the sensitive flesh leading to his hard length. She could feel him twitching, could feel everything tightening and reacting. She pulled away before it got to be too much, so it didn't end before they've even started.

He gasped, his hand tightening in her hair, dragging her upward until their mouths slanted together again, fitting together just right. And then he was turning her over until the warmth of his body covered every inch of hers. His hands ran up and down her sides before sliding between her thighs and parting them, drawing them up around his hips. His knuckles grazed her inner-thighs, teasing her until he was drawing her wet panties aside and thrusting his fingers into her until she was crying out against his mouth; her gasps muffled by their tongues twining. Three fingers fill her, in and out until she's shaking and begging him with the noises from the back of her throat.

Her arms wrapped around him, hands digging into his back until he slid into her deeply, so full and thick and all-encompassing. Her body arched, neck straining as her head fell back and a guttural moan nearly choked the breath right out of her. He kissed her neck, her chin, all around her ear, and finally back to her mouth as she collapsed back, body finding the swing of things. Lifting and twisting, thrusting and meeting, impaling herself on him with pent up desire and need that's been sitting in wait for far too long. And he felt _good -_ better than anybody before him. His hands were everywhere, touching everything; her breasts, her thighs, her stomach, her heat, the back of her knees, the nape of her neck. She swore she could feel him in each of these places at the exact same time, which is impossible of course, but then she was sure that his touch never really faded.

She clutched him against her and for one blinding second, she was scared that nothing would ever top this. That one day down the road, she was going to have to move on and whoever she was with was going to feel nothing like him. That whoever _he_ was, he wouldn't laugh like Dean or touch her like Dean or even comfort her quite like Dean. Which is saying something because Dean had his own way of comforting and it wasn't quite as reassuring as most others. But she liked the gruff way he handled things, without tears or yelling, just a quick pat on the back, some ice cream and an old movie. She admitted to herself that it was better than a Clark Kent hug and then she knew she was in way over her head.

She reminded herself that he loved her. That _Dean Winchester_ was in love with her. And not in the way Clark Kent might've felt once upon a time or that Jimmy Olsen swore he felt during their crash and burn relationship. This was different; this was a guy who took love so seriously, he'd rather pretend he never felt in than have to suffer through the aftermath. This was a guy who would much rather waste himself on one night stands with women who don't deserve him than find someone who could complete him, because he was scared he'd lose them. Just like his dad and his brother. And for him to say it, for him to even _feel_ it, meant more than she could probably imagine.

So when he was filling her wholly, when his hands were clutching her body to his and his mouth was whispering things she couldn't even make out against her neck and her shoulder as he kissed her skin, she knew that this moment really couldn't be beaten. But that in the future, because she knew there was going to be many, _many_ more instances when they'd be making love or declaring things that neither really wanted said, or even going on pretending that they were just two people, passing by in each others lives, making their mark here or there... Nobody was ever going to love her quite like he does and she knew, deep down, she was never going to love anybody else like she did him.

Because he was exhausting; he was sarcastic and mouthy and far too handsome for his own good. He put his life on the line, daily, and he didn't have anything to keep him from dying except expertise and a devil-may-care attitude. He was screwed up and dark and the most important person in his life was his little brother. He valued family, loved kicking demon ass, and would rather spend a night on the couch, drinking beer and watching TV than he would going to some big gala. But he'd do it - for her. He'd do just about anything. Except maybe watch a chick flick or let her pick the music in his car - but she'd work her way to those things. They had some time to figure those things out.

Their bodies were slick, sliding together with purpose and ease, fitting so perfectly that even if he won't admit it, because he hates those chick-flick moments, she was sure they were made for each other. Her thighs clamped around him and she felt the buzz start in her toes and work its way up until all of her was shaking, all of her was exploding, all of her was broken up into fragments of light and those pieces only came back together when he was gone with her, when he was shouting her name in a muffled growl and filling her, hands gripping hers against the bed and mouth searing her neck. She whimpered his name and she was sure that the air was filled with nothing but _them_ , so when she inhaled, that's all she had. The rest of the world was non-existent. It was just DeanandChloe - one being.

Dean fell boneless on top of her, their bodies still twitching against the aftershocks. Their fingers were immobile, hands pressed tight together up above their heads. She could feel his panting, his breath skittering over her chest. His hair was damp against her shoulder and her arm lethargically lifted up, fingers falling to slide through the dark strands, messing them up further. Her thighs fell apart from him, wide and open against the bed, still shaking on the inside. She stared at the off-white ceiling, her heart racing emphatically and her eyes a little watery. She licked her dry lips and found herself smiling with satisfaction. And he wanted to _wait!_ She nearly snorted. She had a feeling he'd never propose that again.

"I'm thinkin'..." He was so out of breath sentences come out broken. "Gimme ten minutes..."

She smirked. Round two was already looking promising. "Easy tiger," she teased anyway. "You sure you want to move things so quickly?"

He snorted. "Way I see it... _now_ , is we've been dating this whole time!"

Interesting logic. "The whole time?"

"Yeah. Apparently you were cheating on that fiancé of yours." He lifted his head to smirk at her. " _Naughty_ Chloe."

She lifted a brow. "You gonna teach me a lesson, Winchester?"

He laughed lowly before kissing her. "Many, _many_ lessons," he promised.

She shivered with anticipation. She really liked where this was going.


End file.
